


Baby, Won't You Light My Fire

by summerstorm



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper, Comment Fic, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-21
Updated: 2010-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once high school was over and Puck realized there was no way he could raise his GPA enough to get a scholarship or get out of Lima unless he became a hobo or was run over by a car into the next town, Puck decided he had to do something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, Won't You Light My Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Written impromptu when someone said this fandom needed a rentboy AU, though this is a very, very light, cracky one.

Once high school was over and Puck realized there was no way he could raise his GPA enough to get a scholarship or get out of Lima unless he became a hobo or was run over by a car into the next town, Puck decided he had to do something.

So he moved to Columbus, charmed his way into Finn's RA's panties, and took residence in the half of Finn's dorm room that remained accidentally unassigned.

And then he got a job as a stripper.

*

Puck is a badass stripper. He makes so much money in tips he could afford the rent on a one-bedroom apartment easy if he didn't like living two doors away from a twenty-four-year-old girl ready to sleep with him at the drop of a hat.

It's a good thing to have, because most of the people Puck sleeps with these days, he sleeps with in exchange for money. Which is pretty much what he's getting from the RA, free lodging, but it's not like the RA could dismantle his living arrangements without getting her ass kicked off the position, so they're mostly even.

Puck's not a fucking whore. Seriously. He's a stripper, and he makes people horny. When people get horny, they get handsy and wallet-destruction-happy. And whatever, the money's good, and some of the people who ask are hot enough that Puck's pretty sure he'd do them for free anyway. And some of them look like they're salivating for his cock while he's on stage, and blowjobs are blowjobs. Puck's not going to say no to getting paid for getting off. It's a principles thing.

He's pretty fucking comfortable. He passes his classes with some semblance of fluidity, and he flaunts his body with insane amounts of style.

And most importantly, he never sees a customer outside the club.

*

It's true what they say about jinxes: even if you don't say them out loud, they'll manage to get out into the world and fuck you in the ass.

*

Tonight's boy is pretty: he's kind of awkward, which means he'll give more money than Puck's worth, and he has this red, swollen lips that Puck wants wrapped around his dick yesterday. He looks young, which means he isn't all that much, because young guys tend to go overboard to either show it off or hide it. This one's not jailbait; Puck knows enough to be able to tell.

After Puck's show and a private lapdance that will pay to replace the watch Puck accidentally threw at a client when she sprang a whip on him without warning, the boy tells him he's a Fashion Design major, and that he lives with his two female besties downtown.

"Is that an invitation?" Puck asks throatily.

"No," the boy says. "I just moved here. I'm not going to let them throw me out yet."

Puck smirks. "So if I want to fuck you, I need to provide a place?"

"Pretty much, yeah," the boy says, flushing.

Puck is almost sure he's not a virgin, but he looks like he's yet to have his mind blown, and Puck's looking forward to doing just that. "Any special requirements?"

"If you keep doing that," the boy says, gasping and rolling his hips against Puck's, "I think the alley behind the club will suffice. But I'd prefer it if that didn't happen."

Which is, of course, why it does happen. That's how jinxes work.

After Puck practically sucks his brain out through his dick, the kid can barely stand on his feet, which is a sign of a job well done.

Unfortunately, he's also so far gone that, before he heads for his car, he says, "I'm Kurt, by the way."

And Puck will be damned if that's not the kid's real name.

*

As it turns out, Puck is damned in many, many ways.

A week later, he stumbles into the Contemporary American Lit class he's taking for extra credit, and finds Kurt—fuck knows why Puck remembers his name—sitting in the front row, looking like he wishes the ground would swallow him up.

Because that's how jinxes work.

Puck sits next to him, says, "Nice to meet you. I'm Noah Puckerman. Call me Puck," because he likes to turn the tables on jinxes.

Kurt nods nervously, shakily, and takes a deep breath before he says, "Kurt Hummel," and holds out his hand.

He licks his lips as Puck takes it, and Puck catches himself before he starts picturing him on his knees under the desk.

He wonders how fucked, exactly, this means he is, and in how many ways.


End file.
